Love Lost and Found
by HazelHibiscus
Summary: Alfred wrapped Arthur in a bear hug and pressed their foreheads together, eyes of emerald green meeting those of sky blue. They leaned in, lips touching in a chaste kiss. *In the years before Alfred and Arthur meet again, will the horrors they survived change them too much? USUK to FrUk/RusAme to USUK*
1. Prolog

I know this is categorized as USUk, and it is happy USUK. But there will also be violent/bad FrUK and RusAme (you've been warned...)

Warnings: cursing (if you don't know what the F-word is, don't read my stories), making out, sexual harassment/rape (it's Francis, what can I say? But it's nothing explicit), abusive relationships (nothing too terrible), and my sad attempt at fluff (trust me, my later stories have better fluff).

Disclaimers: I own the plot, but all Hetalia- Axis Powers characters are obviously not mine.

* * *

The twins sat on their beds, at an arm's length apart. Alfred and Matthew tossed a baseball back and forth as was their custom when exceedingly bored. "A-Al! Please stop throwing it so hard," Matthew yelped ducking away from the fast flying baseball.

"But Mattie, that's how the hero throws!" Alfred said, laughing.

"You mean that's how the hero breaks a window…" Matthew mumbled, reaching down to pick up the baseball from the ground. Suddenly, there was a small rap on the door.

"It's Arthur!" Alfred yelled, flinging himself off his bed.

Throwing open the door, the American wrapped the smaller Brit in a hug bone-crushing hug. "Hey Artie!"

"And let go of me you twit! I can't breathe!" Arthur gasped. "Al, are you ready to go to the park? I have some friends that I want you to meet."

Arthur and Alfred sat in absolute silence within the small grove of trees. "Umm, Arti-"

"Shh!" Arthur hissed at Alfred. "You're an outsider! -They're already nervous, and if you talk, you'll scare them off."

They sat quietly a little longer. "Umm, who-" Arthur jumped to cover Alfred's mouth with his hand.

"They're here," he hissed, "behave yourself." He gently reached out his fingers to brush against something in front of him that only he could see. "They're coming out of the woods now. There's a unicorn, Flying Mint Bunny and the faeries. Can you see them?" Arthur asked, but Alfred shook his head.

Listening quietly for a moment and nodding every now and then as though listening to someone speak, the Brit told the American, "Take my hand; bunny says it will allow you to see them."

Alfred was awestruck. So those 'imaginary friends' he always teased Arthur about were real, and here he was thinking his best friend had gone insane.

"I see them now…" Alfred whispered. "Thank you Artie. It's awesome." Both of them looked down on their intertwined hands as if noticing them for the first time. Arthur turned bright red and tried to pull his hand away, but Alfred only tightened his grip. "This feels nice, doesn't it?"

Arthur stuttered a bit before answering. "Y-yes it does…"

Alfred leaned in to hug the blushing Brit. "How about this?" Alfred answered with a little nod. He then gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "I like you," Alfred chirped with childish happiness. For a long moment, Arthur had a look in his eyes that was far more mature than the Brit's eleven years.

"I like you, too."

* * *

Months after Arthur, Alfred, and Matthew turned fifteen, Matthew was vainly trying to comfort a distraught Alfred.

"Al, I-it's not as bad as you t-think," Matthew said, as the American let out a loud wail.

"Of course it is, Mattie! Artie's family is moving to back to England; I'm never going to see him again and he'll forget me."

Matthew taped his chin in thought. "How about you get him something, so he'll always remember you?"

"Good idea, Mattie, but now I've got a lot of work to do. Where did my baseball go…?"

"Here," Alfred said loudly, as he ran up to his Brit, "I made this for you, so you can't forget me!"

Eyes watering, the thought of leaving Alfred was too much to bear for Arthur. He held the bracelet in his hands, touched by the self-proclaimed hero's desperation. Without warning, the salty tears he had held back thus far begun to dribble and then spill down Arthur's cheeks amidst choked back sobs.

"Artie, no tears. I don't want the last time we see each other to be sad. Let me help you put it on." Alfred flipped his best friend's wrist over, tying the strings. The bracelet was made of thinly braided red and white strings, and had a little hand-carved heart and an American flag charm woven in. "It's the strings from my favorite football and baseball. I took it apart for you," Alfred said with a smile.

Flustered, Arthur stuttered out his words. "C-close your eyes, git, I made you something too."

Arthur pulled out two things from a bag. The first item was a soft scarf with black and blue stripes; the blue was the color of Alfred's eyes. It took Arthur ages to find exactly the right blue. Every time he thought he found the right blue, it was not quite correct. It was too gray, or too green, or too pale. No color had the same intensity of blue or showed the warmth that Alfred's eyes had, but this color did. It was perfect.

Arthur wound it around Alfred's neck, as he nervously asked, "W-what do you think?"

"It's so dope! And soft! Thanks Artie, I love it." Arthur turned a bright red at the compliment.

"O-one more thing," he said, pulling out a necklace on a thin silver chain. Hanging upon it, there was a guitar pick patterned with a Union Jack.

"But Artie, this is your lucky guitar pick," Alfred whimpered.

Arthur gave Alfred a small smile through the tears. "Hopefully the luck will last and we'll find each other again."

He wrapped Arthur in a bear hug and pressed their foreheads together, eyes of emerald green meeting those of sky blue. They leaned in, lips touching in a chaste kiss. "And in case we don't bloody see each other again?" Arthur whispered in his ear, breath tickling his skin.

"Then we make the most of this…" Alfred breathed. Their lips slammed against each other; all traces of chasteness gone. Alfred nipped at Arthur's bottom lip and slipped his tongue into Arthur's mouth, deepening the kiss. Their hands grabbed hungrily at each other's clothing, pulling them flush against each other. Arthur's mouth trailed down Alfred's neck bit and sucked at his skin, giving him a hickey, a temporary reminder that he was the Brit's.

"Don't forget," Arthur whispered into Alfred's neck, who twisted his fingers into Arthur's short, cat-like hair in response.

"Never," Alfred moaned, "never, ever, ever."


	2. The Present 1

That was the last time Alfred ever saw Arthur. They were both fifteen; that was nine years ago. For the first time since that day, Alfred and Arthur were in the same room together. Except Alfred didn't even notice the Brit, he was too busy staring into his beer and lamenting his empty bed.

Alfred was magnetic and drew people towards him, but he could not stay in a relationship. Every now and then, he would have a short relationship of no more than two months before it exploded. Then he would go on a self-destructive period: drinking himself half-dead, flying through bars and banging anything with a pulse, especially guys who somehow reminded him of Arthur.

From several seats down the bar, Arthur was watching him. _Bloody hell_, he thought, _that guy looks exactly like Alfred._ Alfred happened to turn in his direction, and Arthur saw a guitar pick with a Union Jack flag around his neck, slightly glinting in the light on its chain.

_He kept it,_ he thought, _it's Alfred and he kept it all these years._ Arthur got up from his seat and walked towards the young blond. The Brit almost sat back down as hundreds of terrible "what if's" crowded into his mind. What if he doesn't recognize me? What if he's in a relationship? What if-"

"Arthur?" a voice noticeably American said in surprise, "Is that really you?"

Arthur's head snapped up from his melodramatic thoughts. "Alfred, you recognize me?"

Alfred broke into a wide grin and wrapped his old best friend in a hug still with the bone-crushing strength he displayed in childhood. "Of course! The hero always recognizes people! Though you do have more piercings than the last time I saw you," Alfred said, as he pulled back a bit and looked at him for the first time in years.

Arthur fingered his piercings self-consciously as he answered, "I went through a serious punk phase after I moved to London. Now I just wear the piercings when I visit the people I defend in court to prove to them that I understand, because I'm no different.

"Do you have any… boyfriends?" Arthur asked fidgeting with embarrassment and worry.

"I only had one long-term relationship, and it went… badly," the American told him. "Every other relationship I've had was short beyond belief, and after a break up, I go drinking and clubbing and fucking until my brother comes, throws out all my liquor and slaps me straight. Well, not straight, cause Mattie says I'm about as straight as a pancake." Blushing heavily, Alfred added, "sorry for over sharing…"

"No, no, it's fine."

Slipping his hand into the American's, Arthur and Alfred wandered out to the middle of the club's floor and danced, pressed right up against each other. They spent the rest of the evening shouting over the din, but the music was too loud for them to have a real conversation. They would touch tenderly, almost as if expecting the other to disappear at any moment, pressing lightly against each other with the hesitation and fondness that could only come from young love.

"Come back to my place!" Alfred yelled into Arthur's ear, "We need to catch up!"

That night, they lay tangled together on the couch, watching their favorite movies from when they were teenagers and talking. Alfred ran his fingers through Arthur's cat-like hair again and again while Arthur lay curled up on his chest, tangling the legs even further.

"Dude, you know what I love about this? We were apart for so long, yet we fit together perfectly," Alfred said. Arthur just hummed.

"You know, now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go," the American added.

Arthur gave a little smirk and a joking groan, "So now I've got a stalker?" And with a moment of thought, he asked, "You know I don't actually want you to ever bloody leave?" Alfred smiled his trademark, sparkling, Hollywood smile.

"Yeah, I do. I guess that guitar pick you gave me really was lucky."

A little while later, Arthur got up and paused the movie. "Tell me about the last nine years from when I moved to now." Alfred gave him a hard, out-of-character look.

"...Okay. But it's not a pretty story." Arthur curled back onto Alfred's chest like a kitten in a patch of sunlight.

"Don't worry," he said, "Mine isn't either."


	3. The Past

It was Alfred's sixteenth birthday, three months after Arthur's family moved back to England. Alfred sat on a hill, close enough to town to see the huge 4th of July fireworks, but far enough away that he knew nobody would bother him. Well, he thought he would not be bothered, but midway through the event, he felt someone's big hand on his shoulder.

Alfred's sky blue eyes met the violet ones of his basketball teammate and rival, Ivan Braginski. "Sitting alone on a hilltop, alone with your tears is no good way to be spending your birthday, da?"

Alfred hadn't even realized he was crying until now and swiftly wiped the tears off his face. "I'm not crying, Braginski, go away," Alfred snapped, rubbing furiously at his face.

"Yes you are, you've been crying since that British boy left. His name was Arthur, da?" Ivan said, sitting down next to him.

"I'm not crying. The hero never cries," Alfred whispered, pressing his face into his knees.

"Ah, do not worry about crying. You're strong, Alfred, and you hold so many people when they're weak," he said quietly, "So sometimes it's okay to be fragile and let someone else do the holding." Ivan put his hand on the ground behind Alfred and leaned in closer. "And I could do the that."

"As if you would."

"I want to be your friend," he said moving his hand next to Alfred's hip and pressing their sides against each other. _And so much more_, he thought. _I want you to be mine and no one else's. I want you to look at me the way you looked at the British boy._ Breaking down, Alfred shoved his face into the crook of Ivan's neck, desperately gasping, and let out the heaving sobs he kept in around everyone else.

"There, there," Ivan whispered, rubbing his back. "There, there." And Alfred was caught like a rat in a trap. **SNAP!**

* * *

"You know punks turn me on, oui?" Arthur's classmate, Francis, said leeringly.

"I said back off, you bloody frog! And get your hand off my arse!" Arthur yelled, slapping at the fingers stroking lustfully at the denim.

"Ohonhon, you're a feisty one, are you not? That attitude is almost as sexy as that ass," He purred, pinning Arthur between his body and the cabinets. "And I will get you eventually, whether you like it or not..." Francis murmured, running his hand down the length of Arthur's hip before sauntering away.

Arthur stared at the now empty classroom, swaying on his feet. _Why doesn't anyone notice?_ He thought, _it happens every day. And when someone does notice, why do they assume it's nothing? Can't they see how scared I am?_

* * *

_As we lay on our sides, his hand stroked up and down my stomach, sweet Russian nothings whispering into my ear. It should have felt loving, but there was an edge to his voice, possessiveness in his touch that should have sent me running; except, I could not leave now. By the time I realized something was wrong, I was already in too deep._

Ever since Ivan and Alfred started dating, Matthew was nervous. He kept warning Alfred again and again to leave Ivan, that something was off about their whole relationship, but Alfred did not listen. When he looked at Ivan, Alfred only saw his savior, instead of the dangerous, dominating person Matthew saw under the exterior.

Matthew was always really good at knowing a person's true intentions, regardless of what they said or did. It was obvious to all that Ivan wanted Alfred to be his own, and everyone thought it was absolutely _great_ that after suffering a huge heartbreak Alfred had found a new love. But underneath all those sweet words and kind gestures, there was something sinister and controlling about Ivan that rubbed Matthew the wrong way. He told Alfred again and again to get out of the relationship before he could not leave, but even as Matthew spoke, he knew Alfred was not going to listen. He knew from the moment Ivan offered his comfort on that hill two years ago that Alfred was trapped.

One day, Matthew realized something must have changed drastically since Alfred had finally figured out the breadth of Ivan's domination. Whenever they were at parties, Alfred was not allowed to leave Ivan's side. Ivan kept a constant grip on him, whether it was a tight arm around his waist or a firm grasp around his hand. Alfred started to have to check in with Ivan before going anywhere and tell Ivan whom he was going with. And if Ivan did not like what he was doing or whom it was with, Alfred would not go. He said it was just because Ivan wanted to make sure he was okay, but Matthew saw it as Ivan needing to be aware of and control everything Alfred did.

At a party once, when Alfred got drunk, Ivan thankfully took away his car keys. But what bothered Matthew was that Alfred never got his keys back. He tried to brush it off by saying that he got drunk often, so it was for his own good that he could not drive, but Matthew knew Alfred did not believe a word he was saying. It was around that time Matthew noticed a worrisome dullness in Alfred's previous sparkling eyes. Alfred said he was just tired, but when Matthew pointing it out day after day for a weeks, he just got mirrored, aviator sunglasses and continued to pretend it was nothing.

* * *

"There is a party at Antonio-san's place tonight, Arthur, are you going to go?" Kiku asked his closest friend.

"Of course, I go to every party- oh, never mind… I can't go to this one…"

"Arthur, I have been aware something has been bothering you for awhile, but now I know for certain. What is going on?" Arthur got an uncomfortable look.

"It's… nothing… We should go. I'll swing by and pick you up after I change into better clothes."

At 10pm, Arthur stopped back at Kiku's apartment to bring him to Antonio's. Sitting in the front seat together, Arthur realized what a pair he and Kiku looked like. He was the hard-core punk with piercings everywhere and multiple tattoos. And Kiku was the respectable and studious college freshman that did not drink, wore a button-down shirts and dragged Arthur's drunken ass home after every party. They seemed like such opposites that nobody could believe they were friends, but only Kiku knew of that nerdy, bookish side of Arthur that made them exactly alike.

"Arthur!" Kiku yelled over the pounding music, "why haven't you been drinking like normal?"

Arthur's dancing faltered for a few moments, "I don't feel like it tonight, you can drink instead, and I'll drive you home. Go talk to that Greek boy, what's his name... Heracles. I know you've had your eye on him."

Kiku gave him a scrutinizing look as he walked away, but he assumed Arthur would tell him when he was ready.

_I need to be paying attention tonight_, Arthur thought. _Francis is sure to be here since he and Antonio are so close. If I get distracted for a moment something bad could happen_.

* * *

Alfred was on the phone with his friend Toris when Ivan came pounding into their apartment.

"Who is on the phone?!" Ivan roared. "That smile is for me and no one else!" Throwing Alfred's phone across the room, it shattered on impact. A shot of fear jolted through Alfred.

"Ivan! What's wrong with you?" He said, jumping to his feet.

"You are my problem!" Ivan exclaimed, stumbling towards Alfred.

"Are you drunk?" Alfred asked.

"That does not… matter," he snarled. "All that matters is that you pay, whore." Ivan gave him a backhanded slap across the face, sending him tumbling to the floor. "Your attention is turning away from me—and that isn't acceptable." He growled, with a violent kick to Alfred's stomach. Alfred crumpled, gasping to gain back lost breath. Ivan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled them face-to-face, Alfred's feet dangling just above the floor. "Will you be attentive to me now?" Ivan whispered harshly.

"Yes, yes, I will look at only you…" Alfred wheezed.

"Now, why do I not believe you?" Ivan said, pulling back a big fist and punching Alfred in the face. He smiled slightly, watching with glee as blood gushed out of Alfred's nose. "Do you understand yet?"

"I understand…please!" Alfred choked out.

"I do not think you do, but soon, you will." Ivan said, slamming him against the wall, once, twice, five times. Blood trickling out of the corners of Alfred's mouth, and Ivan let him drop to the floor. "I'll do this again if I have to, but I don't wish to. I only want to be sure you are mine."

_He's drunk, he doesn't mean to hurt me_, Alfred thought, as Ivan staggered out the living room. _An__d it's my fault anyways. If I just behaved better, he wouldn't have to hurt me._

* * *

A few minutes later, Arthur felt someone grinding into him. The hands trailing along his hips, the owner's groin gently bucking into him, sent titillating shivers down Arthur's spine. One thing could be said: it was a nice change from Francis's aggressive actions. Too much time had passed since Arthur just let himself have fun; it felt nice to relax in someone else's lecherous embrace. Slowly, so slowly that Arthur did not notice, the person danced them over to a bedroom door. Quickly opening it, the duo stepped inside, all the while still pressed close together. Arthur wanted to kiss, _feel_ someone's warm flesh against his but with none of the messy emotions from sex.

"No sex, all right," Arthur told the guy he as dancing with.

"Ohonhon, you know that's not how I work," a French accent purred in his ear.

"Francis!?" Arthur yelped as he was thrown onto the nearby bed. He landed with a slight creaking sound, collapsing into the hard comforter. Francis pounced on top of Arthur, roughly kissing his neck, nipping at any skin he could find. The moment Francis kissed his mouth; Arthur did his best to bite him as hard as he could.

"Mon petit punk, I should have known you were into rough sex," Francis laughed into his ear.

"Rape," Arthur snarled, trying to throw Francis off of him.

"You can think that if you like," Francis shrugged. "And," he whispered, voice dropping, "scream all you want."

And that's exactly what Arthur did, he screamed as loud as he could, as layer after layer of clothing was thrown off by roaming hands, which tainting every inch of skin they touched. Arthur yelled until his voice turned raw, as his hands twisted in the sheets against the agony. He screamed until his voice died, as he curled up in the bed whilst being ripped apart, inside out.

Walking out the door, Francis whispered something that made Arthur's blood run cold. "You know, if you were more affectionate and went with it, I would l make it hurt less next time..."

_N-next time?_ Arthur thought, still tightly convulsed and filled with exhausted fear,_ this will happen again?_

He felt as though he had been lying on that bed for days. His fingers rubbed against the bracelet Alfred gave him three years ago. Arthur drew all the comfort he could out of it, which was very much, yet somehow not enough to make a dent in his anguish. But it was just enough for Arthur to slowly draw himself up from the bed, pull on his clothes and stumble back into the party.

Arthur slowly limped around the apartment looking for Kiku, so he could tell him he was leaving. Arthur found Kiku sitting on Heracles's lap with a bright red face. "Kiku, I'm going home," he said, "Do you want me to give you a ride?"

"It's only midnight, is something wrong?" Kiku said, getting up.

"N-nothing," Arthur stuttered and cursed himself, praying that Kiku did not notice, but knowing that he would. "I'm just tired." With a teasing tone in his voice, Arthur added, "But you don't need a ride, do you? You can just stay with Herakles for the night. Have fun."

Kiku turned even redder. "Thank you, Arthur-chan."

As Arthur stiffly walked out the door, he glanced over his shoulder to see Kiku getting back into the Greek man's lap with a smile on his face that was not commonly seen. Seeing his only friend so happy made him feel a bit better, like a drop of happiness in a reservoir of suffering.

* * *

Alfred was sobbing, broken on the floor with tears running down his face, which soon dripped off his nose. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to push those painful feelings of his own worthlessness back inside. _I'm being weak_, Alfred thought,_ and Ivan doesn't like weakness._

He could feel his sunflower necklace underneath the hand pressed tightly against his chest. When Alfred and Ivan had first started dating, Ivan gave him this necklace to replace the Union Jack that Arthur had given to him. _"I want to have my love for you shown, not Arthur's,"_ Ivan had said. Right now, after being beaten limp, it felt like a choking, white-hot collar to Alfred. It was much greater than just a pendant; it was a symbol: a symbol of his imprisonment. In a moment of anguish, Alfred ripped the sunflower necklace off, chucking it across the room. It bounced off the wall, making a taunting rattling sound as it landed.

Alfred knew he was slowly being smothered to death by Ivan's domination, but the disdainful truth was Ivan's special brand of control made him feel as though he deserved every pain he went through. Alfred thought that anyone better than the Russian was too good for him.

Alfred gingerly got up and looked around in the back of his closet for an old wooden box. In this box, he kept all of his most prized possessions. But the two he loved above all else was the beautiful scarf Arthur made him and that worn plastic guitar pick. Alfred wiped his bloody hands on the least bloodstained part of his jeans before he dared touch either item. He felt warm, safe even, as he put the necklace back on; it was reminiscent of a time when he was completely happy and felt important. A time that was long gone, leaving in its place an insignificant feeling Alfred.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur felt even worse than he did the night before. The pain was greater than ever, and he still could not get rid of the feeling that he was now tainted. He took some painkillers and jumped in the shower for the third time in the last eight hours. No matter how many showers he took, he could still feel Francis's hands on his body, and it disgusted him. What sickened Arthur the most was how he could not stop Francis from taking advantage of him, and that after awhile, he just stopped fighting and allowed it to happen. Even though he hated Francis as much as one person could hate another, somewhere in his mind, in a part he did not notice, Arthur almost _liked_ the attention after years of being ignored.

Ten minutes to nine, Arthur walked into his literature class; one of the classes he shared with Francis. Even though it was a college course, the teacher insisted on giving them assigned seats. They were completely random and somehow Arthur had the _upmost_ luck to be seated by Francis. Arthur stood by his seat, without sitting down, for as long as he could. Sitting was uncomfortable, and when he sat, Arthur would be that much closer to Francis.

When class started, Arthur slowly, gently sat himself down. "I can tell last night hurt you, oui?" Francis whispered in his ear, warm breath tickling his neck. "I told you that if you went with it and were more affectionate, it would hurt less…" Francis wound his arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur asked, shoving him away.

"I know you would never willingly choose to be with me," he said, fingers brushing against Arthur's jaw. "All I ask is that once a week you allow me to do whatever I want. You know how popular you would become if you let me, and that is what you crave, oui?"

Arthur used to want to be noticed with all his heart; after Alfred was gone, nobody noticed him. The only reason Kiku noticed him was because Kiku was ignored too. But now? Now he realized being ignored was almost a blessing; it kept unwanted attention off of him, but now that he realized he did not want it anymore, it was too late. Last night was going to happen again and again because once someone has Francis's attention, there is no way to get rid of him. _In a few weeks, hopefully he will lose interest_, Arthur prayed.

* * *

"What is this?" Ivan growled, yanking Alfred off his bed by the Union Jack necklace, "I thought I told you to get rid of this!" Alfred's feet scraped desperately on the ground as he tried to keep himself upright.

"I just couldn't," he whined, "I miss Arthur so much; I miss how I felt like I deserved him. I thought I was better back then, but now I know how flawed I am."

Loosening his grip on the necklace, his lover continued talking. "And I know I don't deserve you, but you still put up with me. I'm just so thankful for that…"

Ivan wrapped his arms around his smaller boyfriend and kissed his forehead. "Oh, Sunflower, we are both so flawed. That's why we deserve each other, da?" He whispered, before kissing Alfred's lips. Ivan let the kiss stay gentle- for a moment.

He hungrily snaked his tongue into Alfred's mouth, deepening the kiss, making it rougher. Pulling Alfred's shirt off, his hands clawed at Alfred's torso, hands running in mesmerizing circles along the toned flesh. Alfred let out a slight moan, submitting to Ivan's act of conquest. He was pushed back onto the bed, Ivan putting his weight into each bruising kiss atop the blonde. Alfred struggled, attempting to gain the upper hand with no avail. How conflicted he was over Ivan's dominance.

As if in response, the Russian slammed him harder against the bedframe, rough kisses trailing down from Alfred's mouth, down his naked chest to his stomach. However, the only thought Ivan had running through is mind was about his most recent lie to Alfred. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him; Ivan just told him that because there was no way someone as horrible as Ivan could keep someone as incredible as Alfred. But Ivan knew he was losing Alfred, and had to enjoy him while he could, because it was only a matter of time before Alfred slipped away.


	4. The Present 2

"How did you ever get the courage to leave Ivan?" Arthur asked Alfred.

"Well, I never actually chose to leave him; I didn't want to no matter how he treated me; I loved him. I knew I had to, but I just couldn't," Alfred said breaking eye contact out of shame. "It's actually because of Mattie that I did leave and that I'm alive. Two and a half years ago, Mattie, his now fiancée, Katyusha, who also happens to be Ivan's sister, Ivan and I were going to go out to dinner together to celebrate Ivan's birthday. I was looking through my closet for a scarf or gloves because it was so cold out, and I found the one you gave me. I couldn't stop crying, and when I told Ivan why I was crying, he flew into a blind rage.

"It happened pretty often, especially near the end of our relationship, and normally when he gets that angry, it doesn't last long; I get hit a few times and then it's over. Right before this fight, I think Ivan somehow knew I wanted to leave. Three punches into it, I knew something was different, that he wasn't going to stop, so I actually tried to defend myself for once. That just made Ivan angrier. He yanked me into air and dislocated my shoulder. He punched me in the f-face and broke my n-nose." At this point, Alfred started to shake, and Arthur started to stroke his hair to try and calm him.

"I-Ivan threw me to the ground and started k-kicking me in my chest and stomach. He kicked me s-so many times… he b-broke a few of my ribs, but when I tried to s-scream all that came out of my mouth was b-blood. T-then Ivan grabbed my a-arm and b-broke it. That w-was the first t-time I ever screamed. M-Mattie says that h-he and K-Kat had just pulled up in their car to p-pick us up when he h-heard it from the outside of I-Ivan and I's a-apartment building.

"You remember how mild and quiet Mattie is?" Alfred asked getting a nod from Arthur in return. "Well, when he's angry, his kick-ass alter ego comes out, and he can seriously fuck some people up when he's like that. Mattie broke down the door of our apartment, and grabbed my baseball bat from off the mantle," Alfred said jerking his head in the direction of his fireplace with that very baseball bat sitting on it. "He ran up behind Ivan and just beat the shit out of him; Ivan was knocked out cold. Normally after he goes all psycho on people, he gets very apologetic, but you know what he said this time? He said, 'I've been waiting to do that ever since senior year.'"

"The timid and passive you in your story doesn't sound at all who you were at fifteen or even now," Arthur commented.

"It's been a few years," Alfred murmured, "I got some help, it took Mattie forever to convince me to. And I only see Ivan very rarely, and when I do, I just stay very far away and know that he can't hurt me now."

Arthur had a perplexed expression on his face, " You still see him? Shouldn't he be in jail?"

Alfred looked regretful, and yet embarrassed, at that question, "I just couldn't testify against Ivan. I still cared about him and was afraid that he could hurt me. And without my testimony, the case just fell apart. But Kat said he's gotten some help too and is a lot better."

"And how about you? How did you get rid of Francis?" Alfred asked.

"A few months after we started… hooking up, he met a friend of mine, Michelle, and starting dating her. She's like a little sister to me, so I warned her off. I told her about what Francis did to me, and Michelle broke up with him. I was happy about that, but Francis came to my dorm every night sobbing about how much he missed her and how much he loved her, and you know, he didn't touch me once except to cry on my shoulder," Arthur explained. "Francis told me about how sorry he was about what he did to me and that he completely regrets it. I really did think he changed, and when I told Michelle that, she took him back. It was perfect: Michelle was happy, Francis was happy, and I was left alone," Arthur finished.

"But you were lonely," Alfred said.

"Yes, I felt isolated from everyone. Everyone was arranging their lives in perfect order, and I didn't know what I was to do with it, until I found criminal law, then my life started sorting itself out."

Alfred turned the movie back on; their stories took so long to tell that the TV turned itself off. They drunk in the other's presence, as though plants after a long drought, and they settled into a comforting silence only quietly punctured by the movie.

A while later, Alfred abruptly started speaking, startling Arthur a little.

"What exactly are you doing in DC? Do you live here now?" he asked. "Somewhat, I'm supposed to be moving here to start up and head a new branch of my law firm in the area. I'm looking for both an office and an apartment for myself. As of right now, I'm extremely friendly with my relator. We're on a first-name basis, and I know an excessive amount about her childhood in DC," Arthur told him with an eye roll.

"You can stay with me."

"Are you sure about that?" the Brit asked hesitantly.

"Totally! I was going to convince you to move in with me anyways, this just saves us from having to decide on whose place. And I really don't want you to leave; I feel like if you do, you'll just disappear, so you're not going anywhere.

"But since I'm convinced you're staying, I'm going to bed. You can sleep with me, if you want. And I don't mean sleeping without actually sleeping, I mean actual sleeping; I'm exhausted," Alfred declared getting up.

"I'll join you, but maybe for some not-sleeping too." Arthur answered with a smirk taking his hand and following Alfred to his –their– bedroom.


	5. The Future

Today was their ninth wedding anniversary; exactly fourteen years since they got back together. For the first ten years of being together, Alfred and Arthur were happy beyond all belief, especially after years of sadness. But after awhile, something was missing.

"I know it sounds horribly clichéd," Alfred told Arthur, "but I've been feeling… empty lately, like something's not there that should be. And I think its that," he pointed at the playground they were absent-mindedly watching from a bench.

"Yes, I can see why a swing set makes you feel empty," Arthur said dryly.

"Artie, I'm being serious," he said sharply, "I've always loved kids, and I mean, we're 38. I'm ready to have kids.

Arthur gave him a nervous look, "I like kids too, but having my own worries me, Al, I have never thought I would be a good father, but you'll be. And in any case, you will more than make up for my mistakes."

So it was decided; they would be fathers.

After about two years of high-strung emotions from tears of joy to sobs of stress, Alfred and Arthur walked out of the hospital with two little babies wrapped in light pink blankets and had fuzzy yellow hats on their heads.

For a few months, Alfred and Arthur fought about who would be the biological father. They got into arguments that left them sleeping in separate bed until one of them suggested that since they wanted a bunch of kids anyways, so why not have them both be the biological dad of one of the kids? That's how they got to where they were now with Amelia Kirkland-Jones, Alfred's biological daughter, and Alisha Kirkland-Jones, Arthur's biological daughter. But it was not Alfred's daughter and Arthur's daughter; it was _their_ kids. That is why Arthur held Amelia and Alfred held Alisha.

Amelia had the same sky-blue eyes as her pa with the same mischievous glint to them. She had white-blond hair intermixed with gold that sparkled in the light. Alisha had the bright emerald green eyes of her daddy. Her hair was darker than Arthur's, something between blond and very light brown. Amelia was always cooing with a smile on her face, and Alisha always had a quiet frown on her face. But many times a day that Amelia would scream bloody murder for hours on end, and Alisha would laugh and laugh and laugh.

Even when the girls were young, barely five years old, one could tell just how much they took after their respective fathers. Amelia was always dragging Alisha behind her on all their "adventures" that usually caused at least one of the two to get hurt, and Alisha allowed herself to be yanked along with a small smile on her face.

One adventure involved them running up an almost vertical hill. Upon reaching the top of the hill, Amelia slipped making both of them roll down the hill. There was a comical flailing of limbs left them lying in crying a pile at the bottom of the hill. Arthur came running with Alfred close at his heels. Arthur scooped their little girls up in his arms whispering quietly in their ears to calm them. They only completely stopped crying when Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur waist and nuzzled his face into the girls' soft hair. Alfred, Arthur, Amelia and Alisha were the perfect family: a little dysfunctional at times but made up of people who truly loved each other wholeheartedly.

Even years later, Alfred still wore the Union Jack guitar pick and Arthur still wore the braided bracelet. And every night, after they tucked the girls in, Alfred would kiss that bracelet and say just how damn lucky he felt and how much he loved him. Arthur would give a hot grin and tug on Alfred's strange little cowlick. He would make some noise between a groan and a moan before dragging Arthur under him on the bed.

After making love, they would cuddle with Alfred whispering sweet nothings into Arthur's ears in between kisses. "You know, every bad thing I went through was worth it because I eventually ended up in your arms, exactly where I'm supposed to be." Arthur curled against him, chest to chest, with his hands running into Alfred's hair and Alfred's fingers making slow, lazy designs on his back.

They're love had been lost, but now it's found, and they fit together perfectly as if they had never been apart.


End file.
